Not Letting Expectations Box In Our Kids

A humpback whale sticking its face out of the water with seagulls flying around

“These whales are very good at what they do,” said the naturalist on our whale watch. She was talking about humpback whales’ ability to open their giant, baleen-filled mouths and eat huge amounts of tiny crustaceans and fish. Of course, the crowd oohed and awwwed at such amazing creatures as they gulped up gallons upon gallons of water.

But I’ve said almost that exact same phrase about ants and other insects as well, who are just as amazing in their own way. When my kids say something about how smart an animal is or isn’t, I tend to say something along the lines of, “Well, they’re very good at being an ant” – or an earthworm or a bee or whatever.

So if we can think that about animals, why can’t we think that about people too? Not that the person is very good at being a person, but they’re very good at being *themselves.* But so often, we judge people – namely kids – on how well they match arbitrary standards.

Continue reading

Watching My Kids Get a Little More Independent Day by Day

A white boy in a rain jacket on a bike on the sidewalk next to a parking lot, with an adult on a bike in the background

“Hey, does anyone want to go down to the creek?” I asked my kids, who were sprinting across the sprawling playground equipment at a local park.

“No, we’re racing,” my older son replied.

“Well, I want to go down to the creek,” I said, with a hint of whine in my voice.

“You can,” he stated, plain as day.

“That’s true, I can!” The fact that they could play on their own, that they were big enough not to be constantly supervised and could come get me if there was a problem popped into my head like a cartoon lightbulb.

Continue reading

When a lifetime feels like a few days

Image of the Baby Yoda / Grogu Tamagotchi (not ours, as we have managed to lose the actual Tamagotchi somewhere in the house and the bunny chewed on the ears of the case so badly we had to throw out the little case - <sigh>)

“Baby Yoda left,” my older son told me as I was tucking him in. He was referring to our Baby Yoda Tamagotchi, which eventually leaves with the Mandalorian if you take good care of him.

“Oh?” I said.

“Yeah, I looked to see how Baby Yoda was feeling and he was gone. And I was like, Oh, that’s how he’s feeling,” he said.

“Mmmm, well, you know something?” I whispered to him. “That’s how it feels to me with you.”

Continue reading

Exploring Memories of First Grade

Text: Exploring Memories of First Grade; Photo: Young white boy on monkey bars

“How was school today?” I asked my older son as we sat at the dinner table. He just looked at me. Trying a different tactic, I reframed the question, “What was the funniest thing that happened at school?” He just shrugged. Well, then.

While I’m always interested in what’s going on with my kids, this year is particularly intriguing to me. First grade is the first year that I have a lot of clear memories of my own childhood.

Continue reading

When Your Kid Has a New Favorite Toy

 

When Your Kid Has a New Favorite Toy (Photo: White stuffed bunny)My son recently changed his favorite toy and I felt rather bad for his previously-beloved bunny. So I wrote a letter to her.

Dear Snowball,

I swear I didn’t know this would happen. When I said we’d bring the kids to Build A Bear for the first day of school, I thought it would be a cute activity. I didn’t know that the new guy – and I’m so sorry for this – would replace you.

You’ve been my older son’s favorite for so long. Longer than any of the other animals, in fact. At first, you were the stand-in for his beloved imaginary friend, who was also a bunny. While he loved Bear and Woof Woof and Taco, he loved you more. You were the first animal he gave a personality to, told stories about, and even created a whole imaginative world for! His bed became Bunnyland, with houses and stores and even a roller-coaster.

Honestly, you becoming the favorite was a total surprise to us. One day, you were just that white bunny Grandma gave him one Easter. Seemingly the next, you were The Favorite. And so you hopped into our lives.

But now, it seems like you’ve been demoted. Woofie is now the king, with his dog bed and kindergarten cachet. He’s the one my son brought to school for stuffed animal day. Woofie’s the one my son frets about if he’s not in his bed at bedtime. Compared to his soft, fluffy coat, your not-so-white fur is looking the worse for wear. I’ve even seen my younger son walking around with you without my older son complaining. At least you still have the more creative name. 

But what are we to do? I can’t make him love you more. I can’t guarantee you’ll ever be the favorite again. While I still have a few of my stuffed animals as an adult, I don’t have the relationship with them that I did as a child. 

The only thing I can guarantee is the one thing I hold close as his mom – that he loves me. And he loved you too. 

Because you and me and all of us are in this together. One day I’ll experience this too. One day, he’ll love someone else more than he’ll love me. And I’ll have to let go, just as he’s let you go.

We can’t stop him from growing up. The only thing we can do is love who he becomes. 

When Biking Together is Just the Beginning

When Biking Together Is Just the Beginning (Photo: Young white boy on a bike, pedaling down a multi-use path)

Stay right, stay right!” I yell. Pedaling behind him, I watch my five-year-old wobble down the pavement on his bike. While he’s put in hours of practice at the nearby park, this is his first time on the road.

Despite my urgent tone, my heart is calm. He follows my directions, moving right when asked and braking on cue. At stop signs, he stops feet before the line. He even yells, “Stop!” to warn me. Despite the wobbly shoulders, it’s as if he’s done this a million times before.

This was a vast contrast to a year ago.

Continue reading

The Most Important Thing My Five Year Old Taught Me About Writing

The Most Important Thing My Five Year Old Taught Me About Writing (Photo: Journal with smiling sloths on it)

“What was your favorite thing today?” I asked my then four-year-old at bedtime. Earlier that day, we had our monthly “special afternoon” together, where we went to an indoor playspace with a giant artificial mountain and stopped at Starbucks afterwards for hot chocolate.

“Getting my journal!” he exclaimed. After hot chocolate, we had picked out a journal for him decorated with smiling sloths. Although he can’t write more than his name yet, he had been telling us stories and asking us to write them down. Instead of pieces of folded paper scattered all over the house, we thought it would be better to write them down in one place.

Hearing this answer warmed my writer’s soul to the core. It was completely unexpected and completely genuine.

Continue reading